


The Cure

by Mary_West



Series: LDWS-Hogwarts Decameron [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fairy Tale Style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23612386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mary_West/pseuds/Mary_West
Summary: The LivejournalHogwarts Last Drabble Writer Standinggroup is doing a Decameron-inspired series where you write a story a day based on the daily prompt.Today's Topic:A story about inexplicable healing after all hope seemed to be lost.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Series: LDWS-Hogwarts Decameron [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699588
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	The Cure

"Is that the bottle, Grandmama?"

Hermione looked around to see her granddaughter holding a flask that shone with a strange blue-light. She held back the immediate, urgent response – the last thing she wanted was to surprise the young girl and have the bottle dropped. It was empty, of course, never to be filled again, but that was part of what made it special.

"Yes, that's it, dear. You may open the top carefully and sniff it. What does it smell like to you?"

Jean took a careful sniff. "Fireworks and honey. And … no, it's warm bread and … it's changed again!"

Her face filled with awe, Jean passed the bottle to her grandmother, who took her own sniff before corking it carefully and placing it with reverential care on a soft silken pillow in the Rare Bottles shelf of the shop. All of the bottles in the cabinet were for display only. Some were hundreds of years old, some made of rare materials, but this one, originally of plain clear glass, was special.

Hermione smiled as she took her granddaughter by the hand and led her back into the living quarters. There, a large armchair beckoned, and Hermione sank thankfully into it, her bones protesting that she wasn't a young woman any more. Alas, young Jean took no notice of this, and climbed into her lap, the small curly-haired head resting against Hermione's shoulder.

"You're almost too big to do this any more, young lady."

Jean shifted a little, to distribute her weight a little better. "Tell me the story, Grandmama. Please?"

"You must have heard it a hundred times by now, young chicken. Can't I tell you how Great-Uncle Harry fought the Dark Lord, or how your Aunty Rose tricked her way into the Quidditch team when she was a lass?"

The set look on her granddaughter's face told her that nothing else would do. It was the same stubborn look she might have seen in a mirror sometimes. 

"Very well, miss."

.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.

Once, a long time ago, there was a wizard who gave up everything to keep a young boy alive. The wizard – Severus – pretended to be a Death Eater, and to pretend that enough to not be caught, he had to do some terrible things. Things I will not tell you until you're a lot older and can read them yourselves in the history books. And at the last great battle, his evil Master thought that by killing Severus, the power of Severus's life would give Voldemort the use of a great wand. He had his giant snake bite the wizard, and send her poison into Severus. Then Voldemort took the snake with him, up to the school, where she was killed by brave Neville Longbottom.

But his evil plan had not worked. Voldemort expected the combination of the poison and the blood loss to kill Severus. They didn't. They worked against each other – the poison slowed the blood loss, and the blood that was lost meant that much of the poison washed out of his body. He was found while still alive, and wrapped up tight while the elves took him to St Mungos.

And they kept him alive, with this potion and that, for as long as they could. But day by day, he grew weaker. His face, always pale, was almost completely white. His heart beat slower, and quieter, and his breaths were softer and softer. The problem was that he had been the greatest Potions Master in the whole world, and no-one else could brew the potion that might save him.

Except …

.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.

"Except for the terribly clever witch who loved him!"

"You've heard this story too often young lady." Hermione moved her granddaughter's bony bottom so that it wasn't cutting off the circulation in her legs any more. "Do you really need me to go on?"

"Oh pleeeeeeease, Grandmama!"

Hermione sighed. But not seriously. Still, the protest needed to be made. She continued.

.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.

Except for one of the students, who had watched him when he taught. Who had listened when he spoke. And who knew where he kept his potion books. She went to them, read through them, and made such copious notes that it was quite the surprise that there wasn't a shortage of parchment for the next five years.

Finally, she had it, or so she thought. She calculated that a careful mixture of _Felix Felicis_ with the _Wiggenweld_ potion would help. Alas, she never did find the potion that could put a stopper on death. And the Felix was supposed to brew for six months, and they didn't have that long. But she brewed it anyway, wiping away the tears that kept threatening as she artificially matured it with a measure of _Ageing Potion_ , then slowly dripped in the _Wiggenweld._ Slowly, because just one drop caused the resulting mix to start bubbling and fuming like a batch of nitro-glycerine in a curious student's bathroom sink. But if she added the other in single drops, with the entire flask buried up to its neck in crushed ice, and let it stand for an hour before adding the next … It took three days to blend the two, then she sprinkled powdered bezoar on top in case any of Nagini's poison still lingered in the dying wizard's body. 

As Hermione strained it through a mesh of dittany, the result was quite amazing. When placed in a clear crystal bottle, the infusion glowed a deep sapphire blue, with swirling depths that called to your heart and wrapped around it, filling it with the pain of loss then simultaneously giving you the sweet joy of old memories of perfect times. Even the scent was evocative, calling to mind some of the best things that you had ever been a part of, and using them to calm you as they settled like a worn old blanket placed softly over your knees on a winters evening. Hermione sniffed the bottle, then headed straight for the hospital. If she was lucky … If he was still alive … If the potion worked …

She was almost too late. The hospital elves shook their heads sadly, and the Mediwitches only allowed her to give the potion because honestly, there was nothing else to be done. Hermione fed it into the professor's mouth drop by precious drop, making sure the previous one had slid down his throat before the next one was slipped out. The vial emptied, the last drop hanging from the lip of the bottle and scenting the air with memories so beautiful, so special, that the Mediwitch had to excuse herself and leave. Hermione didn't. She put the vial down, and held Severus' hand – his cold, unmoving hand – as she watched and waited for any sign. 

Even the elves left her alone then, heading off to save those who could be saved. She looked down at the vial, at that last drop, and took a deep breath. Then, licking the drop off, she leaned over Severus and kissed him, delivering the last part of the dose in the gentle pressure of her lips.

.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.

"Like a princess, Grandmama?"

Hermione was about to answer when a cup of tea was placed gently on the table near her, and Severus himself answered.

"No, like a queen. Your grandmother was a strong, noble, brilliant queen, who somehow managed to create a potion that could save me."

"Grandpa!" Jean flew off her grandmother's lap just avoiding the hot tea, and leapt into Severus's arms. "Aren't you glad Grandmama saved you? That she worked out exactly the potion that you needed?"

"Very." Severus hugged Jean hard, then let her down as he came around to hold Hermoine's hand. "And yet, whatever she did, they've never been able to replicate it. Ever. For fifty years, the Wizarding world has tried to analyse the ingredients, and not once have they managed to create what your grandmother did. That dark blue, that would tell us we've done it? Never."

"Now go and get your bag, Jean. Your parents will be here soon to pick you up."

"Ok, Grandmama." The girl ran off, and Hermione found herself pulled to her feet and kissed hard by her husband of fifty years. 

"And you know that it wasn't the potion that saved me? It kept me alive for a little while longer, but it wasn't the cure." Severus brushed an errant grey hair from Hermione's face. 

"Then what was?" 

"And I thought you knew it all." He kissed her again, their love sending soft waves of life through both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> [The magnificent MyWitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyWitch) was inspired to draw the actual bottle.  
> 


End file.
